Doc, There's a Hole Where Something Was
by TheDoctorsCompanion13
Summary: Will laid in Frederick's bed, looking sallow but sound asleep. They'd chosen to stay at his place as it had grown late on their night out and they were closer to there than Will's home. Frederick had noticed as he'd driven to his underused, extravagant home that Will wasn't looking good. His skin had paled and there was the sheen of sweat on his brow.


Will laid in Frederick's bed, looking sallow but sound asleep. They'd chosen to stay at his place as it had grown late on their night out and they were closer to there than Will's home. Frederick had noticed as he'd driven to his underused, extravagant home that Will wasn't looking good. His skin had paled and there was the sheen of sweat on his brow. Frederick had hoped that after a good night of sleep he'd be feeling better, but as he checked up on Will at his bedside, he felt uneasy about the reality of the situation.

He crossed his arms over his chest, picking absently at the sleeve of his black, cotton shirt while pondering what to do. He tried to think back to his childhood and what his mother would do when he was sick and quickly decided it was a trip down memory lane he didn't want to take. He looked around the room as if a nurse with all the answers might walk through his bedroom door but it didn't happen. He exhaled heavily through his nose before reaching out with a hesitant hand, placing it on the clammy flesh of Will's forehead.

A high heat radiated from Will's skin, causing a bud of worry to bloom in Frederick's chest. He pulled the hand away and stepped back instinctively as Will shifted in his sleep. After a long minute of waiting to see if Will would wake up, Frederick felt safe enough to move. He drew the curtains in his room tighter, blocking out the light so Will might sleep longer before leaving the room with the door shut.

He checked on the time as he wandered through his open, sunny kitchen, noting that he had to be at work in a couple of hours. Frederick looked around at the room, knowing it was spotless but only seeing it as covered in blood. He blinked hard a few times and the blood disappeared but it was only temporary. It was one of the main reasons he hadn't returned home much. He knew he would never be able to forget.

As he tried to push those images from his mind, he brewed a pot of gourmet coffee and sat at the island bar in the kitchen with his eyes closed as he drank from a large, blue mug. He savored the bitter taste and felt the warmth and thought only of those two senses so that he wouldn't think of where he was.

The first cup of the day was nearly empty when he heard shuffling and a door creak open. His initial instinct was panic. His heart started to hammer in his chest and his eyes flew open as he looked around the room only to see Will walk in. Frederick relaxed and he remembered, telling himself as he always had to that the blood was gone, the bodies were gone, and Hannibal Lecter was exactly where he belonged.

"Good morning, Will," Frederick said once he knew his voice would sound normal and calm.

Will grunted as he walked to the coffee pot and grabbed a mug from the cabinet above it. "You could call it that."

Frederick nodded, unable to argue with that after how he'd been feeling. He watched Will carefully, looking for more signs of sickness and finding enough to agitate the worry in his chest again. His eyes appeared hazy, he was moving sluggishly, and he was sniffling quietly as if he thought Frederick couldn't hear. Will shook the coffee pot at Frederick and he held out his mug, letting Will refill it. They sat together at the island in silence as they tried to prepare for the long day ahead.

"So, how are you feeling?" Frederick asked, too tired and concerned for the subtle route.

Will shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "Like I'm not even sure I'm alive right now."

The anxiety Frederick felt returned with force, like a disease spreading through his veins. He'd never cared for anyone who was ill before, not anyone he had feelings for. He had no idea how to go about it. "Perhaps you should stay here today and rest. I can take us home after I get out of work if you're feeling up to it. You might feel better there."

"Yeah, I was considering cancelling my classes today," Will said, draining the mug between sentences. "Think you could write me a doctor's note?"

Frederick shot him an unamused look but Will was unaffected as he chuckled to himself at his own joke. He set his mug on one of the counters near the dishwasher while Frederick finished off his coffee and did the same. He was thinking about taking a shower when Will grabbed his arm.

"Do you have any cold medication in this place?" he said.

Frederick nodded. He hadn't gotten sick in ages but he had always been prepared for it. "There should be some in the medicine cabinet in the master bath. I-I'll, um, get it for you."

He stepped forward to head toward the bathroom but Will grabbed his hand and held him back. Will moved in front of him and looked in him the eye before resting a hand on his chest. "Hey, it's okay. I understand how you feel. Listen, I've taken care of myself for a long time. You don't need to worry about it."

Will walked off on his own toward the bathroom and left Frederick standing there with his mouth open. "Well, I was—I. Okay."

Guilt poisoned his heart as he leaned his back against the wall, feeling horrible about not taking enough initiative in trying to help Will feel better. He knocked the back of his head into the wall as if dishing out his own punishment when Will's voice carried down the hall.

"I'm going to crawl back into bed but I'll leave my phone nearby if you need me when you're at work."

Frederick walked into the bedroom doorway just as Will flopped his head onto the pillow. "Don't you mean in case you need me?"

Will nodded with his eyes closed. "Either or."

"Okay, well, I hope you feel better soon. I love you," he said, that last part sticking on his tongue a little as he still had trouble saying it out loud.

"I love you too," Will said tiredly. "I'd kiss you but you'd just end up sick in this bed with me."

Frederick smiled at the thought. "That doesn't sound so bad," he replied as he crossed the room to get to his closet.

"No, not now. Just wait til it gets worse and I look as disgusting as I feel," Will groaned.

Frederick glanced at him as he returned from the closet with a brown suit. "Impossible."

"Okay, Frederick, I'm sleeping now. Go get ready for work," Will said as he pulled up the covers to conceal his face.

Frederick shook his head and threw a pair of rolled up socks at his lumpy form before laying the suit out carefully at the end of the bed not occupied by Will's feet. He showered, dressed, and left for work all without disturbing Will as he lightly snored away the morning. He envied him a little, though sickness certainly wasn't a party. He just thought it sounded better than a day at work where one Dr. Hannibal Lecter had taken to trying to turn their sessions around on him. Hannibal vied for power and tried to get it where he could, in this case by attempting to switch Frederick into the patient role.

The experience was far from enjoyable especially after the first time when he successfully accomplished it and Frederick didn't realize until he was halfway back to his office. He consoled himself with the thought that he wouldn't have to face him until the afternoon, but time still passed and it would get there eventually, even if he did have piles of paperwork to slow it down.

When he arrived, he avoided the cells, travelling a longer back way up to his office. He shut the door behind him, hoping for peace and quiet when he sat down at his desk. He stared at the meticulously arranged folders on its surface for a long moment, thinking of everything he needed to work on, and rifled through them for Hannibal's file. It was a thin file, not having gotten much out of him, but he had a habit of looking over what he did have as if it might somehow give him an advantage over Hannibal.

It never did. He was never prepared for his sessions. He felt more like a man in the middle of an ocean trying to keep his head afloat. But he feigned confidence with the best of them so, if anything, Dr. Lecter would never see him break. That was one thing that he chose to take pride in as he finally started in on his work for the day.

* * *

Hours passed, not without notice as every minute ticked by with an agonizing slowness. When the time arrived for his session with Hannibal, Frederick wasn't eager but he didn't plan on being late either. Before leaving, he checked his surveillance on his laptop and switched to the one-on-one area with the cages. Hannibal had already been placed in one and was looking directly at the surveillance camera. Chills raised on Frederick's flesh as he snapped the laptop closed. He wasn't going to let Hannibal get to him.

He walked down to meet with him, case file and notepad clasped in one hand, his cane in the other. With a considerable amount of effort, he steeled his expression just before walking into the room and pulling up a chair. Frederick didn't look at Hannibal's face at all until he sat down in the straight-backed chair with perfect posture.

"Hello, Hannibal," Frederick said, laying out the file and notepad on his lap.

Hannibal expressed a slight smile, barely noticeable if not for the few extra crinkles around his eyes. "Frederick."

"That is Dr. Chilton to you," Frederick replied curtly.

Hannibal nodded compliantly. "Tell me, Dr. Chilton, how is Will?"

Frederick frowned, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth. "Mr. Graham is… fine. We're not here to discuss him."

"What's wrong, Frederick? Do you not know? Has he left you?" Hannibal said, the ghost of a wider smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

He ignored the question and looked down at his notes. "Are you any more willing to undergo testing than you were during our last session?"

Hannibal leaned forward and mimicked Frederick's sitting position while contorting his face into a perfect mask of concern. "He has, hasn't he? To be honest, Frederick, I'm not surprised."

"I don't have to be here if you're not going to cooperate!" Frederick said, raising his voice to fill the room.

"You never were enough for him," Hannibal said, continuing on as if Frederick hadn't spoken.

"Hannibal!" he warned as he stood up.

Hannibal stood to match him. "Not good enough. Not intellectually stimulating enough."

"I will have you know that we are, in fact, still together and he has… he has everything he needs from me," he said, hesitating at the last part as he thought of his failings from that morning.

Hannibal stepped forward and grabbed the bars, a smile on his face. Frederick stepped back, internally cursing himself for falling prey to the bait. He regained his composure and sat back down but Hannibal remained standing. He loomed over him.

"Is there trouble at home? Not living up to expectations?"

"If this isn't going anywhere, then I'm leaving," Frederick said as he gathered up his papers.

"I'd be able to deal with it, you know," Hannibal said, giving him a sly look as he stood and headed toward the door. "I'm exactly what Will needs and you know that deep down."

"You made his life hell," Frederick hissed as he paused at the doorway.

"I made his life better," Hannibal said with ice in his tone. "He just hadn't realized it yet."

Frederick motioned for the orderlies at the door to take Hannibal back to his cell before he stormed out. He returned to his office and sat down, tossing his papers onto the desk. Anger buzzed in his head, ran through his veins, and it blinded him as he looked around his office and saw nothing. He slammed his fist down hard on the desk and the throbbing pain helped him to rein his emotions back in.

After a few deep breaths, he sat back and replayed what just happened in his head, replacing the anger with embarrassment and feelings of inadequacy. He toyed nervously with the ring on his right hand as he mentally tried to reassure himself. Will had chosen him over Hannibal. Hannibal had made both of their lives horrible, there was no way he could love him. And yet, doubt found its way inside his mind. He removed his phone from his pocket and eyed it for a moment before calling Will.

It rang a few times before he finally picked up. "Hey?" Will said, sounding groggy.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Frederick said, unable to keep a smile from his face and tone.

"Been better and been worse," Will replied after clearing his throat. "Do you think you could bring home some cough drops and orange juice. Or just literally anything that would help. I'd go but the cough syrup bottle says not to operate heavy machinery."

"Yeah, yes! Absolutely," Frederick said, eager to help in any way. He paused and checked the clock in his office. "I should be home in another hour or so."

"Thank you so much, Frederick."

"You're welcome. Anything for you," Frederick said, feeling slightly more secure. "Go get some rest. I'll see you when I get home."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too."

He returned the phone to his jacket pocket and exhaled, finally able to relax. Still, he felt the doubt in the air, hanging over him, ready to return the moment he felt any kind of vulnerability. He sat back down at his desk when the old, black phone on it rang. Frederick frowned at it, as he didn't often receive emergency work calls, but he picked it up quickly.

"Dr. Chilton speaking," he said, trying to sound polite rather than worried.

"Dr. Chilton, you should check in on Dr. Lecter. He's causing a commotion down here, sir," a man's voice said.

"Thank you for letting me know," Frederick said, hanging up the phone.

Fear and curiosity consumed him as he opened the laptop and cycled through the cameras until he saw Hannibal's cell. Frederick looked closer and saw that his lips were moving. With great speed, Frederick grabbed his headphones from his desk drawer, put them on, and plugged them in.

"—stop until you hear me, Frederick. The Will you're with now, the man he is, I made him that way. The man you claim to love is mine. He belongs to me, Frederick," Hannibal said, his voice growing in volume before he stopped to stare at the camera. "You know it as well as I do. So stop lying to yourself and leave before someone gets hurt."

Frederick ripped off his headphones and closed the computer before moving away from his desk to distance himself. In a hasty, anxiety-fueled decision, he put everything on his desk away, grabbed his keys, and headed the back way out of the building to go home. He felt so overwhelmed with everything spinning around in his head that he nearly forgot to stop off at the store. As he walked down the nearly empty aisles, he calmed down some, picking up a carton of orange juice, extra tissues, and two bags of every type of cough drop they offered.

When he returned to his house, he found Will bundled up in blankets on the beige couch as he watched some sort of documentary on the flat screen. Will turned his head as Frederick walk in and his eyes wandered to the bundle of three plastic bags in his hand.

"I only asked for a few things," Will said with a light laugh though his voice sounded like he was stuffed up.

"I, uh, wasn't sure what to get so I got… everything," Frederick said a little sheepishly.

"Thank you, Frederick," Will said, smiling.

"You're welcome. Here, I'll show you," Frederick replied as he walked in and sat down in one of the matching chairs.

He removed and displayed all of the different cough drop bags on his glass coffee table and let Will pick one. He chose a berry flavored one with a cooling center and Frederick packed up the others before putting the orange juice away. All the while, he continued to worry about what Hannibal had said. It mingled with and nurtured his doubt. He wished it would go away but if he could will away his emotions, the panic he felt wouldn't have been so prominent in his life.

In a moment of exhausted weakness, he rested his head on the glass covering his refrigerator and wished he'd stayed home. He didn't quite know how long he'd been standing there, but he stood up straighter when he heard bare feet padding toward him. Frederick turned and walked right into Will's arms, which wrapped around his neck along with the layers of blankets Will kept on him. He relaxed into him and held onto Will's waist.

"Bad day?" Will said, running a comforting hand along the length of Frederick's back.

"You could say that," Frederick sighed into the crook of Will's neck.

"Was it…?" Will said, trailing off as if he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"You know, I'd rather not discuss it right now," Frederick said, wrapping his arms tighter around Will.

"Then we don't have to. Come on."

Will led him by the hand back to the couch where they curled up together with the blankets, Frederick laying with his head on Will's chest while Will brushed his hands through his hair. It was only then that Frederick realized just how drained he felt.

"I hope you don't mind getting sick after this," Will said softly after turning off the television.

"It sounds like a blessing right now," he said, closing his eyes as Will continued to play with his hair.

Will paused and coughed a couple of times into the crook of his arm. "Why not just stay home? Call in sick."

"That's irresponsible and unprofessional," Frederick said tiredly.

"So, when was the last time you missed work?"

"The last time? I was living at your house on the run for murder," he said as he shifted to look Will in the eye. "Before that, I was in the hospital after being disemboweled."

Will frowned, concerned, as he stroked the side of Frederick's face. "All I'm hearing is that you really need a relaxing day off."

Frederick laughed, burying his face in Will's chest. "Yeah, maybe I do."

Hannibal's words continued to kick around in his head. He wondered if Hannibal was right, that he did shape Will. The three words that felt hard for him to say came easily to Will's lips. Maybe it was because they were lies. Yet, the hands in his hair and the warmth he felt spoke otherwise. Even if it wasn't the case, there were days he wondered why Will was with him, especially considering the situation he found himself in. He'd had a bad day and Will was comforting him while Will had been home, ill, all day. That's how it always worked out with them. Frederick was always the one being taken care of.

"Why is it you're the one helping me, hm? You're sick, I should be helping you," Frederick said, unable to keep himself from voicing his concerns.

"Frederick, all I am is sick," Will said with a reassuring smile. "I'm not even that sick. You, on the other hand, are sad. That concerns me a lot more."

Frederick moved so that he was sitting up, straddling Will's hips. He held Will's hands in his, enjoying the heat. "I genuinely do not deserve you."

Will kissed Frederick's hands before resting them on his chest with his own. "I think you do. And I deserve you."

Frederick, overwhelmed by his words, leaned in and kissed Will on the cheek. Then he moved to place a kiss on his forehead, feeling the fever-warmed flesh on his lips. "How long has it been since you last had medicine?" he asked when he moved back into a sitting position.

"It's probably been more than four hours," Will said, brushing a hand through Frederick's soft, dark hair.

"Then I'll be right back."

He left and returned a few minutes later with the bottle of cough syrup that Will had left on the bedside table. He watched as Will swallowed a dose and grimaced a little at the taste. Frederick grabbed the bottle from him and set it on the coffee table as he assessed Will's condition. Tired, mildly ill, but otherwise okay. He thought he'd be okay to travel because Frederick really didn't want to spend another night in his house.

"You want to go home," Will said, a knowing statement rather than a question.

"It's unnerving when you do that," Frederick said as he sat back down on the couch beside him.

Will smiled and knocked into Frederick's shoulder with his own. "Let's get our stuff together. Why don't you pack up some more belongings to bring over since you're already slowly moving in?"

Frederick looked up at Will with surprise.

"What? You didn't think I'd notice that we'd suddenly acquired a new lamp, nicer curtains in the kitchen, and a stack of books I'd never seen before?" Will said, laughing.

Frederick flushed a little and shrugged. "You never said anything."

"Well, if all you're going to do is improve the place, I've got nothing to complain about," Will said, giving Frederick's hand a comforting squeeze. "I'll grab my clothes and the cold meds while you get ready."

Frederick stood up with Will and walked to his bedroom closet where he grabbed a small suitcase and started to pack up a few more changes of clothes to bring with him, leaving a few outfits there in case they ended up spending the night again. He also packed away a few books, a couple of wine bottles from his cellar, and some essentials from the bathroom cabinet they had run out of at home. He didn't feel the need to bring anything larger, not yet. He put that discussion away in his mind for a later date.

Once they were both ready, they climbed in the car and left for home. When they arrived, they both felt tired for different reasons, though it was still early in the night. Frederick unpacked his suitcase, leaving his clothes in the guest room closet with the rest of them, before he undressed and performed his evening ritual before bed. Afterward, he joined Will in bed.

Though Will appeared to already be sleeping, he responded to Frederick joining him by wrapping an arm around him, elbow resting at his waist as he pressed a hand to his chest. To Frederick, Will's warmth and touch was the most calming thing in the world. He felt certain that if he had to spend a night alone he wouldn't be able to sleep. The nightmares would return without him.

That night he slept comfortably, much better than he had the night before. He only woke up once when Will had a small coughing fit, causing him to get up and take more medicine. When morning rolled around, Frederick woke up feeling wide awake while Will was still fast asleep. He untangled himself from Will's grip and stepped out of bed before he walked into another room in order to quietly call in for a sick day from work.

He'd decided Will had been right; he needed a relaxing day off especially after the previous day's events and he chose to start it by preparing a light, vegan breakfast for the both of them. Their day was spent relaxing, which was best for Will as his sickness had grown worse. He assisted by bringing medicine or liquids whenever Will needed them as well as taking the dogs out a couple of times when they gathered around the door.

A serene sense of relaxation settled around him in the early afternoon as Will slept on the couch with his legs on Frederick's lap as Frederick read through one of Will's fishing books. He was halfway through a section on lure construction when his phone started to ring. Absent-mindedly, he picked it up and turned to look at the screen, receiving a minor surprise when he saw that it was his work number.

"Hello, Dr. Chilton speaking," he said, adapting a professional tone and demeanor.

"Dr. Chilton, we need you to come down here now. It's Hannibal Lecter," the stressed voice of a women said.

"Hannibal?" Frederick said, closing the book and sitting up straighter. "What's going on?"

"He's being… highly uncooperative. He's demanding to see you," she said, pleading.

"I'll be right there," he said, hanging up the call as the tension returned to his muscles.

He lifted Will's legs so he could stand up and carefully set them back down on the couch before he left to dress up in one of his suits. He dressed quickly as the dogs followed him around eagerly, curious about his rushed actions. When he arrived back downstairs, he knelt down by Will and gently woke him up by brushing his hair out of his face.

"Huh?" Will groaned as he blinked the sleep away.

"Will, sorry for waking you, but I have to go. There's a problem at the hospital," Frederick said, moving to sit on the coffee table as Will propped himself up.

"What's wrong?" Will said, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing you need to be worried about. I'm just going to go take care of it and then I'll be back," Frederick said in a reassuring tone, though he felt far from reassured himself.

"Well, okay. Keep me updated."

"I will," Frederick said, grabbing his phone and slipping it into his jacket pocket. "I'll be home soon."

Frederick left and drove to the hospital, feeling a hard knot of worry in his gut the whole way. He'd never been called in before, so whatever was happening must've been more serious than the woman who'd called him had made it sound. Upon his arrival, a couple of nurses—Emily and Liam—rushed out to meet him and ushered him inside.

"What is going on?" Frederick demanded as they walked up the steps.

"Dr. Lecter has one of the orderlies, sir. He's threatened to hurt him if anyone tries to help and he only wants to see you," Emily explained.

Frederick paused at the door, feeling panic in his heart but he did his best to remain calm for the sake of his employees. "All right, keep doing what he says. Don't go near him. Don't even walk down that hall, tell everyone else. I'll deal with it."

The nurses nodded and walked in first as Frederick followed just behind. He alone walked the way to the cells, stopping for a moment when he saw the struggling form of the captured orderly in the distance. Then he started running down the hall with a pronounced limp, slowing down to a walk when he was a few feet away. He recognized the young man with an arm around his neck whose back was pressed hard against the bars of Hannibal's cell.

"Oh, god. Adam, you know better than to get that close," Frederick chastised, focusing on that so that he wouldn't panic about the situation.

Adam made as if to reply but only a strangled jumble of noises left him. Frederick reached out but Hannibal tightened his grip around Adam's neck. "Keep your distance unless you want the boy to get hurt, Frederick."

Frederick stepped back, pressing himself against the wall across from his cell. "What do you want, Hannibal?"

"I want a lot of things, but the one I want most of all is for you to stay away from Will Graham," Hannibal replied, slowly and carefully.

Frederick stared at him in shock. "You what? You haven't done enough to the both of us already that you're forcing us apart by threatening someone's life? You are… unbelievable."

Hannibal tightened his hold further, causing Adam to sputter and gasp for air that couldn't reach his lungs. "Watch yourself, Frederick. I had hoped that you would walk back in here today, looking pathetic, riddled with doubt, but no, you don't show up at all and put this poor young man in danger."

"You are the only one putting him in danger! And I have no reason to feel doubt. Will loves me," Frederick said indignantly.

"Does he?" Hannibal said, putting on a doubtful expression as he allowed Adam to breathe again. "Did he tell you that? Because he told me that too, most likely with the same ease he tells you. He told me after our sessions, during shared meals, after his first kill."

Frederick's expression melted into one of horror as Hannibal's became a smug grin. "Kill?" he sputtered out.

"You don't think he could've been with me for so long without drawing suspicion if he hadn't entirely joined with me, do you?"

Frederick clasped a hand to his mouth, falling back into the wall for support as he thought about the plausibility of it. When he thought about Hannibal's words, he believed that Will was capable of murder in the right circumstances, but had he really resorted to that? Will was generally a closed book to him except for the few times he broke down while Hannibal still roamed free. Those happened for different reasons as Will had explained them. He could've lied, but Hannibal could lie just as well.

"You're lying," Frederick said, standing up away from the wall.

"I'm imprisoned, I've lost everything, what do I have to lie about now?" Hannibal replied in a low, nearly incomprehensible tone.

"You just want me away from Will because you think he's yours."

"Yes, but what better way to do that than the truth? Go ahead, Frederick. Ask him. See what he says," Hannibal said, calmly goading him.

"I will," Frederick said, his jaw flexing from the tension.

"NOW," Hannibal demanded, cutting off Adam's air again. "Call him now."

Frederick held up a hand, motioning for him to stop hurting the young orderly before reaching into his jacket pocket for his phone. He dialed Will's cell number and waited, pregnant hostility hanging in the silence as it rang. When Will finally answered, Frederick's breath caught in his throat.

"Frederick, hi. Is everything all right now?" Will said, the genuine concern in his tone causing Frederick stress.

"Will…" he began, feeling the knot of anxiety in his gut slowly move its way to his throat.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he said, panic causing him to rush his words a little.

"Did you kill… Will, did you kill people when you were with Hannibal?" Frederick said, his voice wavering as he spoke.

Silence greeted his question on the other end.

"Will?"

"…Yes."

Frederick hung up the phone and stuffed it back in his jacket, feeling empty and emotionless as he did so. He stared back at Hannibal, face blank, and didn't speak a word. Hannibal released Adam and stepped away from the bars as Adam ran down the hall to safety. The expression on Hannibal's face, one of pure satisfaction, was enough to billow up a fire of rage within him, but he kept it contained. He contained it all the way down the hall, as he told a group of his employees that he wanted Hannibal Lecter moved to higher security containment, even as he stepped outside to the cold, afternoon air. But when he sat down in his car and shut the door, he lost it.

He yelled at nothing, at no one, as he gripped the steering wheel and shook it like he could pull it free. He abused the wheel with the heels of his hands and his fists until he hit the horn at the center and held it, allowing it to scream loud and long where he couldn't. Frederick thought it might ease what he felt and didn't feel but it didn't. Eventually he gave up and slumped back in the seat.

The phone in his jacket rang. He let it ring and never moved to touch it, not even after the fourth, fifth, sixth attempt to reach him. When he felt he was composed enough to drive, he shifted the car into gear and headed home. He tried not to think about it, to rationalize it, but he couldn't. All it did was hurt because Will had lied. The murders, they didn't make as much of an impact. Adapt to survive; he understood that better than anyone, but the lies. He didn't know if he could trust any word Will has ever said to him and that hurt more than absolutely anything.

Rather than drive to Will's home, he drove to his own even though as he walked inside it felt even emptier than it had before he and Will happened into a relationship. The open windows only let in the darkness of early night and his footsteps echoed like a shout into the Grand Canyon as he walked through his kitchen. After a quick trip to his wine cellar where he grabbed a bottle at random, he settled down in his bedroom with the lights off and the bottle open.

Will continued to try and call him as the young night grew older but Frederick had turned his phone on silent and set it face down on his end table. He drank and thought about every moment they'd spent together since Will took him in, analyzing each moment to death without being able to tell truth from lie. The memories grew fuzzier the more he drank and he was asleep when he reached the last quarter of the bottle.

He dreamt of nothing, which he felt thankful for when he woke up with sunlight spilling into his room. His head pounded and his eyes ached so he tried to bury his face in his pillow to ease both until he realized that he was under his covers when he'd fallen asleep on top of them. He looked around the bed for the bottle of wine but didn't find it. Instead, a glass of water and two white migraine pills sat on his end table next to his phone.

Frederick glared at his doorway, knowing exactly who did all of it, but the simple action caused him so much pain that he gave in and took the medication anyway. After waiting for the pain to ease off, he crawled out of bed in his rumpled suit and walked out into the kitchen to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"I don't want to see you or talk to you," Frederick announced loudly before he even spotted Will walking in from his foyer. He appeared as small and pathetic as he'd ever seen him, looking sad, tired, and sick.

He quickly looked away from him as Will froze in place. "Frederick, please just let me explain."

"You know what, no," Frederick said, standing his ground as he finally looked Will in the eye. "You had so many chances to explain on your own and you didn't. How can I trust you now?"

"I am so sorry," Will said, pleading with his eyes and tone.

Frederick nodded, looking away from him. "I believe that, but it doesn't change anything."

Will rubbed his eyes, looking both tired and desperate. Frederick was certain he hadn't slept at all and, though he didn't want to feel it, he felt pity and concern. "I'm going to make it up to you, Frederick. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

Frederick assessed him for a moment. "Good. Then sit down because I have some questions and if you don't answer with one-hundred percent honesty, I am gone."

Will walked over and sat down at the island bar as Frederick forced him to wait by slowly pouring out a cup of coffee. The silence and tension in the room was only broken up by the occasional cough or sniffle from Will, but Frederick did his best to ignore it. He wasted more time by painstakingly adding just the right amount of sugar before he walked over to stand in front of him. Frederick looked Will dead in the eye as he sipped at the coffee until he decided he wanted to speak.

"The people you killed, do you think they deserved it?"

Will stared down at the shiny surface of the counter. "Yes."

"How many?"

"Three."

Frederick flinched a little at the number as if it physically pained him. "Tell me who they were and what they did."

Will looked at Frederick, just as pained. "Frederick—"

"Tell me now or leave," he said, resting his hands flat on the counter.

Will hung his head and thought for a long minute. "Randall Tier, killed three people, Hannibal sent him to try and kill me as a test. Devon Wick, killed five children. Jaime Kinnon, killed fourteen women."

"Fine. Okay," Frederick conceded. If there were people worth killing, those would be on the list. "Did you enjoy doing it?"

Will shivered a little as if a breeze had chilled him. "Yes and no. I'm glad the killings stopped. I didn't enjoy doing it as much as I made Hannibal think I did."

"And that's the whole truth?" Frederick said, leaning down and making sure he caught Will's eye.

"Yes," Will said, his red-lined eyes level and steady with Frederick's.

"Good. It's a start," Frederick said, finishing off his coffee before turning away from Will.

He set the mug down with the others they'd left the day before and leaned his hands against the counter. He didn't know whether he wanted to have known from the start or not known at all. All he knew was that his heart hurt and his stomach churned. Though, it all eased a little when Will wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and hugged him close.

"Do you hate me?" Will asked, his breath rustling Frederick's hair.

Frederick rested his hands over Will's. "I don't hate you. I hate Hannibal Lecter. I'm just… sad and disappointed. I wish you'd told me the truth because now it feels like anything you've said to me could be a lie."

Will turned Frederick around in his hold until they were facing each other. Frederick allowed it, but he found looking Will in the eye difficult. Will pressed their foreheads together as he continued to hold Frederick close to him. Frederick noticed his skin didn't feel quite as warm as it had the day before.

"You're worried that I don't love you," Will said, matter-of-factly.

Frederick laughed. "I really hate that."

"If there's one thing I've ever said that's true, it's that I love you."

"Just that one thing?" Frederick said with a laugh. "I really hope so."

Will grabbed Frederick's face and pulled him in for a short, tender kiss.

"This doesn't excuse you, you know," Frederick said, putting some distance between them. "You still killed people and lied."

"I did," Will said with a nod. "I did and it haunts me. I still have nightmares, but having you makes it easier."

"Then talk to me next time, Will. Because I can help even more. Please," Frederick pleaded, grabbing Will's shoulders.

"I will. I shouldn't have doubted that you'd understand," Will said.

Frederick pulled Will into a hug, one arm around his shoulders, the other hand brushing through his hair. Will leaned heavily into it, holding onto Frederick's waist for dear life. They stood like that for a long time until there was a loud, persistent knock on the door. Frederick detangled himself from Will and walked to the front door where a single human shape was silhouetted. He opened the door a small margin to see who it was and found a UPS deliveryman on the other side. With a feeling of confusion, he opened the door the rest of the way and was greeted by a flood of painful light and a medium-sized brown package.

"Dr. Frederick Chilton?" the man asked, looking down at his electronic pad.

"Um, yes, that's me," Frederick said, not remembering having ordered anything, let alone having it sent to his own home.

"Sign here please."

Frederick signed for the package and the deliveryman left, leaving Frederick standing in his doorway as he stared bemused at the box. Will walked into the foyer after Frederick closed the door and paused.

"What is it?" Will said, pointing at the box.

"I have no idea. I didn't order anything but my name is on it," Frederick said, turning the box over and feeling something within it move around.

Will appeared to tense and held out his hand. "Can I see it?"

Frederick looked from the package to Will but handed it to him anyway. Will carried it into the kitchen and set it on the bar before he grabbed his Swiss army knife he carried from his pocket. Frederick followed close behind, stepping around to the other side of the counter as Will flipped the blade open and cut through the tape. They both looked into the box as Will opened up the flaps to find red stains and the top half of a splintered black and silver cane.

Frederick stepped back. "That—that's not mine. Mine is here."

"But it does look exactly like it," Will said, his body language reading as tense and afraid.

"Will, what's going on?" Frederick said, unable to take his eyes off the box.

"I need to call Jack," Will said, pulling his phone from his jacket. "This is from Hannibal and it doesn't mean anything good."


End file.
